There's no going back, is there?
by lilabut
Summary: Bella makes a discovery that re-breaks what Jake has tried to fix so hard.


I wrote this as a gift for the first place winner in the The Air, the Sun banner contest.

* * *

**There's no going back, is there?**

For months he has tried to fix together the broken puzzle pieces that had come along his driveway one day, with a load of scrap metal in the trunk of the familiar red truck and a load so heavy on her heart, Jacob had felt the clouds turning a shade darker, the temperature falling a degree more.

Jacob knows what sadness looks like, he has seen grief and agony on too many occasions. Still, apart from all the experience he should not be having, he was unable to find the right words to describe the emptiness in Bella Swans eyes that day. Memories of her smiling face on the beach had kept swimming behind his eyes, and he had wondered how broken a person could be before literally falling apart.

He is good with his hands, working meticulously over his Rabbit, the engine, every filigree connection. Fixing things.

Maybe, Bella Swan could not be fixed, maybe there is no replacement part for the one that had been shattered beyond repair.

Jacob would gladly have been a replacement part, second best. All of his life, as long as he got to be _best_. With her. For her.

It had seemed within reach, the ruptured seals inside of Bella slowly closing, protecting the still empty part inside of her from more damage. Jacob hoped to be able to fill that void one day as much as he had hoped for his mother to come back from the store and his father to run along the beach with him again.

On a Monday, _she_ had taken his hand while they walked along the beach, letting the sand stick to the soles of their feet. That moment of hope, of action from her side, the warmth of her pressed against his side shyly, carefully, made Jacob feel like – step by step – he was reaching his goal.

On Tuesday, no truck pulls up his driveway, no engine rumbling with the distant thunder, no phone call excuse of another cold or fever or broken head. Nothing. As if the last months had been a dream and Jacob had just woken up, believing so much that she had been there, almost his.

On Wednesday, Jacob needs reassurance that she was not a dream, not a fantasy. But it is Charlie who mumbles into the receiver, his mind somewhere far off from the phone, speaking careful words about his daughter.

On Thursday, there is still no word to describe the emptiness in Bella Swans eyes, which are fixed on the dark, threatening void of her missing floorboard, her hands folded neatly on her lap, back straight, like a tragic, antique statue.

Two weeks later, no one has dared to fit the floorboard back in place, Jacob has to realize no words reach Bella's ears and he pretends he does not know Charlie called Angela multiple times to get Bella under the shower, the water never washing off her state of immobility.

...

„Do you want to ride the bikes?" Jacob asks on a rainy day the following week, sitting on the floor by Bella's feet, which are dangling an inch above the floor. He never before realized how tiny she really was. The emotionless stare of her eyes makes him doubt she even realizes he is right by her side, just like he always was and would be. But his voice seems to have an impact on her, maybe her subconsciousness reacted, her eyes twitching a little every time he speaks with her.

"Hmm…"

It is no real answer, not even a proper sound like a murmur. Just a mumble, a louder breath, a vibrating of her dry lips.

"Go see a movie?"

"Hmm…"

"You should probably wear a sweater, it's chilly in here."

It is not really, and even if it were Jacob would probably not have noticed, but he worries about her health, about everything and she always got cold so fast. She hated cold.

"Hmm…"

"Quil died in a car accident yesterday."

"Hmm…"

"And Embry was eaten by Spongebob Squarepants."

"Hmm…"

Something inside of Jacob snaps in this moment, the unintentional indifference tearing at his seams, his patience shattering like her heart. With inhuman speed he is on his feet, towering over Bella, shielding her from the breeze that the open window allows into the lifeless room.

"It's enough, Bella," he says almost harshly, a tone he is not used to coming from his lips, anger urging him towards Bella's closet, his eyes never leaving her plain face. There is a strange beauty, like a greek myth, about the way she sits on her bed, hair fair skin, the hopelessness in her eyes.

Jacob feels his heart burning like a healing wound, picking up Bella's backpack lying on the ground, aimlessly grabbing random clothes from her closet, stuffing them inside. He knows his mother would have cringed had she seen him wrinkling the clothes like this, but he tries to focus on the task at hand.

He has no idea what she would need, but the fact that she does not even look at him stuffing her clothes, wallet and other things he sees lying around her room into her bag makes him believe she would probably not care.

Just as Jacob shuts the window, white paint peeling off the old wooden frame, Bella slowly stands on her feet, and walks mechanically towards the bathroom.

It is one of the few things she does without being told or forced to, and it gives Jacob a spark of hope that she will collect herself. Will forget which secret she discovered. Charlie had only given Jacob a vague account of what had happened, of how he found Bella sitting on her floor like a corpse.

Charlie.

A rush of guilt overcomes Jacob, and he starts to doubt if his plan is really the best thing he can do. He knows how hard Charlie tries, how lost and helpless he is. And what he was about to do would hurt him. But if there was any way for Charlie to get his daughter back, it was this.

Jacob hears the flush coming from the bathroom just as he finishes his scribbling on a yellow post it, which he quickly hides in his pockets, waiting for Bella to come back, her backpack secured around his left shoulder.

She is so slow on her feet that she does not even make it all the way to her room before Jacob stops her, taking her hand in his and pulling her towards the stairs.

"We're leaving," he explains full of determination as if he was talking about the November weather outside. He can see a hint of confusion, her hand restraining, her feet trying to stop moving.

Her arms are resisting as Jacob helps her into her jacket and sits her down on the stairs to put on her shoes, all the while praying for his plan to be as useful as his meticulous attempts at fixing her before.

"Wait here, okay?" he asks, not expecting an answer at this point, so he is surprised when Bella nods shortly, such a small movement he might have imagined it.

Rushing into the kitchen, he leaves the yellow post-it (maybe his life and dignity) on the table, grabbing two bottles of water and package of cookies before returning to find Bella standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him.

Something has changed, just a little, like a flower opening just a little bit, so little that your eyes will miss it. Fear has started to twinkle in her eyes.

"I'm right here, Bells," Jacob whispers, taking her hand, grabbing her keys and gently steering her out of the front door into the windy, greyish light of day.

...

The first rays of morning sunlight shimmer on her pale skin, a natural reflection, giving her skin a more healthy color, her eyelashes casting faint shadows.

Jacob has tired not to stare at her in this state, vulnerable, lost in her own world, ever since she had fallen asleep the moment they had passed the welcome sign of Forks, but he can not tear his eyes away from her now as he has parked the car, waiting for sleep to relax his burning eyes.

She looks so utterly peaceful, no worries troubling her mind, her chest raising and falling in tune with her even breaths.

It is a chilly morning, so Jacob pulls a blanket from underneath his seat and carefully covers Bella's small figure with it, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before he lets the windows of the truck down, allowing the fresh morning air to flood the small space.

Exhausted, he rests his head against his seat, casting Bella a last sleepy glance before his eyelids fall closed under the heavy weight of much needed sleep.

...

When he wakes up, the warmth of noon heightening all scents, the soft rush of the ocean nearby, she is gone.

He sits up quickly, nearly bumping his head against the roof of the truck, his heart racing. He can not lose her or let her get lost.

The blanket lies abandonned on her seat, and Jacob fears the worst, fears her evaporating into thin air, fears her disappearing without a trace. But then he clears his gaze from his fear, his eyes focussing on the beach he has parked the car on, a small figure standing by the water.

Jacob kicks off his shoes, his feet digging into the sun-baked sand as he leaves the truck, slowly stepping towards Bella.

Her eyes are closed, her hair swaying in the wind. Jacob can see her taking deep, slow breaths, her bare feet in the water, the rush of the ocean washing over her skin over and over again.

He stands next to her, letting the salty water wash the sand off his feet, the sunlight tickling his skin.

"Where are we?" she asks, the first proper words she has spoken in over three weeks, her voice tired and raspy.

"Somewhere in California, I didn't pay much attention to the road signs," Jacob answers, eying her carefully, looking for the change he wants to see so badly. When she opens her eyes, still a little glassy, he feels hope blossoming inside of him.

"It's sunny here," she whispers, moving her toes over the wet sand, waiting for the next wave to wash her skin clean.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like that."

Birds sing in the distance, and somewhere a car is driving by. Neither of them cares as Bella nods, her hands catching Jacob's warm fingers, letting him envelop her, hold her close to him.

They stand there like this for a long time, silent, letting the sun warm them, pretending the world was a good place and there was hope for the future.

...

They are somewhere in New Mexico (Bella does not care about where they are anymore and Jacob is too distracted by her hand _always_ in his to pay attention), when she kisses him on the cheek without a reason, whispering _thank you_ against his neck as she retreats, a blush tinting her cheeks.

...

Bella insists on sleeping in the truck every night, cuddling closer to Jacob's side every time, soaking up his warmth, their hands always intertwined.

Something has changed, Jacob knows it. He does not quite trust the healing process he gets to witness, the smiles on Bella's face, the ease, the eagerness.

Still, he can not deny his gratefulness, a selfish part of him always wanting her to cuddle closer to him, to let him warm her the way she seeks warmth from the sun.

...

They have been gone for over a week when Jacob secretly calls his father while Bella is in a restroom, grateful for the answering machine. He leaves a short message, saying everything is fine, that Bella is getting better, that she was healing.

He does not tell Bella about the call when she returns, suggesting to get Chinese food somewhere.

...

"Can we take a room tonight?"

Everything that happens after Bella's casual question is a blur in Jacob's memory. He vaguely remembers agreeing enthusiastically (because sleeping in the truck with his size is not the most comfortable thing), a shabby motel somewhere in Texas, the relaxing shower, a pizza for dinner. There are memories of Bella's soft lips suddenly on his, her arms wrapped around him, holding on to him. The feeling of her soft skin beneath his touch, sighs of his name mixed with laboured breathing, a feeling of completeness he has never known, her sweaty hands stroking his back, lips ghosting over his neck.

Her naked body curled up at his side as sleep overcomes him.

...

They do not talk about it for a few days, falling back into their old pattern, holding hands, holding on to each other in silence, just driving ahead. Looking for a sunny place in winter.

...

Somewhere in Tennessee, they realize it's Christmas, decide that gifts are overrated, but stop at a motel to celebrate Christmas with ordered in food and a heated room.

It is strange that the room looks so alike the one that has popped into Jacob's memory at least a dozen times every day ever since they left it, and he can see Bella hesitating before putting her backpack on one of the two beds.

She disappears into the shower quickly, leaving Jacob alone. He stares out of the window, the snow the last thing he wants to see. Doubts still dominate his mind, insecurity about how this is going to continue, when they would go back home and what would happen if they did.

He can hear Bella coming out of the bathroom, but he shivers in surprise when he feels her warm arms wraps around his middle, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades.

"Do you love me?"

Her voice is just above a whisper, her warm breath fanning over Jacob's spine, causing him to shudder. Slowly, afraid that a quick move would scare her out of the embrace, he turns around, her arms never faltering, always wrapped around him.

"Yes," he whispers, looking deep into her curious brown eyes, "I love you."

She smiles, a genuine smile that Jacob believes in immediately.

"Merry Christmas, Jake," she whispers before their lips meet in a slow, chaste kiss.

...

They spend the next few days in the shabby hotel room, cuddled up against each other, Jacob's fingers running through Bella's soft hair, her lips ghosting over his skin as if she was trying to remember every inch.

The last light of day starts fading, cars rushing by, creating a constant murmur outside. Bella is draped over Jacob's chest, her chin resting over his heart, his fingers tracing her cheek bone gently.

"Don't you want to call your Dad? It was Christmas, I'm sure he worries about you like hell."

Jacob had called his father yesterday while Bella was taking a shower, and he knows she knows it. The question has lingered between them ever since, the tension finally too thick.

Bella shows no reaction for a while, breathing evenly. Despite her silence, Jacob can see her mind working, can see her forehead wrinkling slightly. She is making a choice and suddenly, Jacob starts to feel fear.

"Maybe tomorrow," she finally whispers, pressing a soft kiss against Jacob's collarbone.

...

Tomorrow morning, she is gone. Only a hastily scribbled note left on the bedside table, a little money and the carven wooden wolf he had given her for graduation resting silently beside it.

_I can't go back, Jake. I never belonged there, especially now. But you do. You have to go back home. I'll call Charlie, so don't worry about him. Just go back. I'm so sorry, I love you so much, Jake. But there's now going back for me now._

_Bella._


End file.
